SheWolf Rising
by me-obviously
Summary: Oh, see. Oh, see Jane. Funny, funny Jane... Ms. Farrar is far from finished, you can bet on it and she's got an ace up her sleeve that the new government won't see coming. Spoilers for PG. Nat lives. R&R.
1. After the battle

**Disclaimer**: If I did I certainly wouldn't be publishing this _here_.

**AN**: First foray into the fandom. This morning I randomly flipped through Ptolemy's Gate and reread some of my favorite sections out of boredom. I was randomly inspired to do this. Continue? You tell me. Likely to anyways, just to explain why Nathaniel's alive at least, 'cause there _is_ a reason. Eh, if you wanna know it, you tell me.

I'm sorta nervous about branching out, I usually restrict myself to Avatar: The Last Airbender, this is actually my first time writing anything else that wasn't that or my original stuff.

- - -

She-Wolf Rising

1

She was tired, her jet black fur was matted with blood and grime. Around her lay the corpses of her loyal Night Police, their bodies mangled and twisted. Despite their might and their intelligence, a few rogue demons had gotten the better of the magicians and now she was alone in a world where she was despised. For the first time in her life, Magician and Police Chief Jane Farrar could see no way out. The government had fallen and her world with it.

She refused to fall too. No, she would persevere without bowing to the weaker magicians and uppity commoners who were doubtlessly taking control in the wake of the death of the PM and most of his Council. Even though her werewolves had fallen, she still had demons at her command and she knew where to find still more power. She would bide her time, verify her resources, and then she would reassert her self amongst the public and take back control of the government for the magicians.

With these thoughts in mind, Jane — still in her wolf form — turned towards the direction of the Palace where a great explosion had taken place earlier in the night.

Mandrake had likely been at the epicenter of the blast and as no more demons were wreaking havoc, his plan had been a success unlike her own. Jane had no doubts that it was the power of Gladstone's Staff that had set off the explosion and killed the demons, meaning that John could use it. So it was only natural that she would be able to control it as well. Yes, the commoners wouldn't stand a chance against that sort of power as John had long maintained.

As she trekked through the park she found herself amazed by the destruction that had been wrought. Deep gouges scarred the earth, some of them still smoking. Here and there was a corpse, only a few recognizable as human, all of them partially devoured and burned. Her keen nostrils twitched irritably at the smell of rotting and burnt flesh, though the side of her that was predominantly wolf delighted in the scent.

Eventually she came to a point where the ground was littered with sparkling glass shards and shifted form, not wanting to ruin her paws when she could walk as a human and risk her boots instead. The Palace was obliterated entirely and Jane hoped that the staff had not shared a similar fate as she proceeded forward. When she reached the crater where the explosion had originated she found not the staff, but something else entirely.

Lying on the ground, scorched with his side severely damaged, was John Mandrake himself. Even though their relationship had grown cold as of late, Jane still rushed to his side and desperately felt for a pulse at his throat. To her inexplicable relief, a thready and sporadic beat met her questing fingers. She scanned his side and was pleased to see that the heat of the explosion had cauterized his injury. Satisfied that he would keep long enough for her to ascertain exactly how he had survived, she searched the crater for the staff. To her immense disappointment, she found no trace of it.

Well, at least something had come from her search. While John had sometimes proved to be ridiculously sentimental and idealistic, he was still a powerful magician and had once been her closest ally. She smirked slightly as she shifted him so as to loop a limp arm around her shoulders. Two magicians such as they? The poor excuse for a government that the commoners were building wouldn't stand a chance.

- - -

**AN**: Oh noes! Mr. and Mrs. Smith are coming for you, Commoner Government!


	2. When he wakes

She-Wolf Rising

2

Awareness came to him slowly in bits and pieces.

1, 2, 3... Breathing was painful, the rise and fall of his chest set his nerves on fire as his side shifted. His airway felt burnt and his nose was full of soot.

_What happened?_ he wondered. _Why does everything hurt?_

Nathaniel searched his memories for what had happened to him after he had dismissed Bartimaeus but there was nothing coherent. Just the impression of heat and the dying scream of the Palace and beings far greater than he rearing above his fragile frame.

Opening his eyes was too great a strain so he concentrated on listening instead. He was in a building, he guessed that immediately. There was the clattering of metal and glass, the clear sound of running water, and a voice though he couldn't make out the words. All were muffled so he surmised that the source of the noise was in another room.

Nathaniel opened his mouth to call for help, attention, _pleasehelpme_ but no sound came out. He panted and tried again and managed a groan this time. He paused and listened as the noise continued in the next room. Too quiet, then. He turned his head and cried out louder. To his immense relief, the sounds ceased only to be replaced by footsteps that grew louder and louder until finally...

"Are you conscious yet, Mandrake?" asked a feminine voice.

Nathaniel whined helplessly in response and was rewarded by the press of a nozzle to his cracked lips. He suckled at the water bottle greedily until it was drawn away by his caretaker. "Easy there, John, you've been through a lot."

Gritting his teeth, he cracked an eye open. "Farrar?"

Jane's lips curled, "Expecting someone else?"

He groaned at her, "What happened?"

"You tell me. I just found you half-dead in a crater where the Glass Palace used to be."

He shut both his eyes tight and thought back to what he remembered: Nouda was upon him, Bartimaeus' essence had disappeared into the Other Place, and Gladstone's staff had burst. Everything had been a blaze of searing heat and light then, but one thing stood out: Two demons — _Spirits_ whispered a voice that sounded alarmingly like Bartimaeus — far greater than Nouda, than anything he had ever encountered before. He recalled their presence, overwhelming and awesome, and — stangely — their touch. Their great hands (or maybe they were claws or tentacles or something else) wrapping about him like a protective cocoon, shielding him from the blast. He blacked out then and his next recognizable memory was of lying on the ground on his side, his injured flank scorched by a gentle touch from one of the greater spirits who murmured of _freedomgratitudeotherplace__**thanks**_...

Nathaniel braced himself and opened both eyes. He blinked and shifted so that he was sitting up, supported by the wall behind the bed he lay on. "The spirits in Gladstone's staff spared me."

He was unsurprised by Jane's chuckle, "Demons saved you _without prompting_?"

He ignored her, he'd answered — it was up to her whether or not she believed and he was still too shocked by what had occurred himself to bother to explain it to her. Instead he surveyed his injured side. It was bandaged neatly, no one could fault Jane's military precision when it came to medicine or warfare. It still ached, however, and from what he'd gathered about the wound it would leave a mark no matter how Ms. Farrar doctored it.

Unconcerned by it, he looked about at his surroundings. "Hm," his eyes roved the room thoughtfully, unimpressed by the droll furnishings, "where are we?"

Jane crossed her pale arms and eyed their surroundings ruefully, "A commoner cottage out in the country. I thought it best that we remain unnoticed for the moment."

"Ah, who does it belong too?" he glanced at her while scratching his shoulder absentmindedly, well-aware of her skinwalker status.

Jane snorted disdainfully, "As if I would dirty myself in such a way. Who knows where commoners get to?" She smirked at her joke and continued, "It's deserted, it has been for a while apparently, the dishes are filthy."

He looked at her in surprise, "You were washing the dishes?"

She sneered, "Yes, I have standards when it comes to my food, Mandrake and I don't want to risk a shopping expedition right now."

He huffed and scratched his shoulder again. Jane's sharp eyes caught the motion and she grinned at him. "Itchy are we?"

He froze and his vacant expression hardened into a suspicious glare. "What did you do?" he growled.

Jane shrugged casually, "You would've slowed me down otherwise, Mandrake. I can't afford any weakness now that your dear commoner and secretary have given power to the filth."

Nathaniel's eyes widened in horror. "You didn't — you couldn't have —" He pulled the stolen shirt away from his shoulder roughly, ignoring the pain, and gaped at the bite wound he found on his clavicle.

Jane's voice drew him back to stare into her satisfied eyes, "Welcome to the pack, John. I suggest you don't try to set off on your own; without the proper training the werewolf condition can be agonizing and dangerous to both yourself and others."

She abruptly leaned closer til she was nearly nose to nose with Nathaniel and smiled at his wide eyes, "It's you and me now, John. Just you and me."

- - -

**AN**: Dun dun da. Werewolf!Nathaniel promises to be interesting, I'm sure.


	3. When he recovers

She-Wolf Rising

3

The days of his recovery were a blur to Nathaniel.

Following his conversation with Jane, he had relapsed into unconsciousness and had developed a fever shortly after. For days he laid in bed, waking erratically for brief moments before falling back asleep. Often, he was conscious only long enough for Jane to force some soup and water down his rough throat while he shivered uncontrollably. His reality seemed to be comprised of a blur of color, sound, and pain.

He dreamt often during his illness, mostly of Kitty and Bartimaeus and whenever he was capable of coherent thought he found himself thinking of them often (particularly Kitty). He wondered if Bartimaeus had recovered in the Other Place yet and whether the djinni was declared officially dead in the magicians' records or not; Nathaniel hoped he had been, the demon deserved to rest after the shoddy way he'd treated him. As for Kitty, well... _Does her visit to the Other Place still effect her looks... or is she young again now? Do her eyes still shine with the light of what she saw?_

And when neither Kitty nor Bartimaeus occupied his mind, he thought about his current situation. Jane had summoned demons to assist her, he knew that much. Though his contacts had been removed he found that he could sense when a demon was near and even discern its level when it came into sight; whether this sixth sense was a remnant of his temporary possession by Bartimaeus or a side effect of the werewolf condition he was uncertain. It seemed Jane was genuinely laying low, however. The few demons she now had in her employ were mere imps and a couple of lower level djinn. Most of the time, the imps remained outside as sentries in the guise of squirrels and birds (to Nathaniel and Jane's disgust, one even disguised itself as a deplorable rat) while the djinn sulked about the house as an elderly couple.

Nathaniel disliked those chosen disguises immensely. Particularly because the one dressed as an old woman took to sitting at his bedside; he woke several times to find the djinni stroking his forehead and carding the arthritic fingers of the old hag through his hair.

On the eighth day since he had first woken, Nathaniel came to without a fever. He was still weak and when he stood up his legs were shaky, but Jane declared him recovered enough to leave his room to his relief. With the spare help of the djinni in the form of the woman, he washed and dressed in the casual clothing Jane had procured for him: a pair of dark blue jeans, a red polo shirt, and a dark grey hooded jacket. Once he was satisfied with his hygiene, he entered the kitchen to find Jane waiting for him. To his surprise, she was also dressed casually in blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a red sweater. Over the back of her chair hung a beige overcoat and on the chair opposite her was a black coat Nathaniel assumed was for him.

Jane waited until he had settled down before gesturing to one of the djinn to fetch them their dinner. As he ate, Nathaniel felt her eyes on him but didn't deign to meet her gaze, preferring to wait til she spoke what was on her mind. Jane didn't last long. "The commoners have allied with what magicians were left and set up a government."

Nathaniel hummed thoughtfully. "It's a _commoner_ government, Mandrake. Everything we feared."

He looked up at her finally, "I would think that would be a secondary concern, after all that's happened."

Jane huffed, "That's settled, the demons are gone— "

"— We let them out, Farrar," he spat, "It wasn't the Resistance or even the war that nearly destroyed everything. It. Was. Us. Magicians."

She flushed. "And you think the commoners are going to do any better?! They have no training, no education!"

"And all the training helped us, did it?" Nathaniel retorted. He felt wild, for the first time in his life he was speaking his mind — his true mind — without restraint or fear. _What would Kitty think if she could see me now?_

Jane was breathing hard, her brows were furrowed into a mirrored set of harsh angles over her darkened eyes. "So this... is what you think? Truly?"

Unrepentant, Nathaniel nodded firmly. She sat back, canted her head to the side and licked her lush lips. There was something unbelievably seductive in the motion to Nathaniel. "You do know that if they find you now, alive, they won't let you have power now that they've tasted it for themselves?" she asked, her expression hooded. There was something distasteful about that notion even now. Nathaniel couldn't lie to himself about it, he wanted power, he always had. For his entire life the pursuit of it had been his only goal, his only concern. Doubtless had Nouda not happened, it still would've been his main concern no matter how he'd felt about Kitty and what she'd done for him.

Jane saw his answer in his pensive expression and smiled softly. "We aren't so different, you and I." Nathaniel glanced at her and she met his glare through lowered lashes, "You were the only one I thought I could like."

They were silent for a few moments, the fussing of the djinn the only noise in the house, before Jane spoke again, "The full moon's tomorrow."

He sighed, "...I thought that didn't influence your — our transformation."

"It doesn't, not normally. But it's the deadline for your first change after you're bitten. The first full moon after the bite is the only transformation you haven't a choice in. After tomorrow, you'll be able to pick when you shift even on nights with the full moon," she explained and Nathaniel could've sworn there was sympathy in her voice.

"So I really don't have a choice do I?" He paused and when he next spoke he sounded his age for once. "Is it going to hurt?"

Jane looked at her small hands, folded on the table. "It always hurts. But... I'll be there with you."


End file.
